


WISH THERE WAS A BETTER WAY TO SAY: IM SORRY

by comicsandtea



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Forgiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comicsandtea/pseuds/comicsandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after your death Erik is clearing out the home that the two of you shared when you were younger and while going through items he finds an old box you had hidden in the floor boards, inside containing secrets and deepest thoughts that he had never known existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WISH THERE WAS A BETTER WAY TO SAY: IM SORRY

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfiction on Ao3, I hope you enjoy and requests are always open

The floorboards creaked with every step he took, no matter how gentle he tried to be. Typical. He had always said that the house always acted as though it was older than was it actually was, some always found it odd that he would refer to the house as though it were a real person and that it had intentionally creaked only to annoy him, making itself seem years older than what it actually was. He made his way up the stairs, the steps creaking with every step up he took until he reached the attic; the dust intoxicating his lungs with every breath he took once inside. He hadn't been up there in years. It was still exactly how he remembered it, however, much more dust then he last recalled. The floorboards in the attic were sturdier than that of the ones downstairs. He made walked around the room, taking quiet steps around the room, the heels of his black dress shoes making a soft  _click, click, click,_ that did not echo but filled the room along with his soft breaths.

A small smile snuck onto his thin lips as the memories flowed back into his mind. The laughter, the tears, the adventures, the stories, it all came back to him, and he just couldn't help smiling, even if it hurt. His cold veiny hands brushed up against the dusted object, each vein a trailing in different directions down his hands, each one a pathway of his life and everything he had faced and every road he had taken. His fingertips left trails of in the dust on the boxes and artifacts that he had once loved, each one containing its own memory and story. The warm golden glow shinned through the room through the large window on the wall. It was a beautiful day, not that he had any interest in going outside, showing his face to the world was the very last thing on his list for today. He moved his old writing desk to the side, a loud scratching noise thundering on the floorboards as he pushed it out of the way, almost out of breath, he wasn't getting any younger.

Catching his breath back, he brushed off the dust from the desk on his grey suit pants. When he looked up, his chest still rising and falling he noticed a loose floorboard, odd, how would that have happened? When he gained his breath back he made his way over to the floorboard and out of a natural curiosity that lurked deep within him, he checked to see if there was actually anything underneath the board. When he moved it he immediately saw the black shoebox. The edges worn out and crinkled with age. He picked up the box and brushed the dust way delicately. He couldn't remember ever seeing it recently. His eyes glanced down to the little white box on the side where the drawing of the shoe was, a pair of high heels. He immediately knew whom this must have belonged to. Her.

He opened the box and the contents inside contained a brown leather bound journal. He picked it out and looked at it. He hadn't seen this for years. He knew whom it had belonged to. Without a doubt it was hers.

It had been over twenty years and part of him still hadn't come to terms with it, to be truthful, no one had fully come to terms with what happened all those years ago. (Your full name), a mutant vigilante since the day she found that using her voice could make an impact. (your name) had died while protesting for the equality of mutants and humans alike. She had been shot in the head on a suspicion of "a possible threat to the people". Humans. They would say almost anything to cover up their tracks and make themselves seem like they're the innocent ones in the situation. When Erik closed his eyes he could still see it so vividly. He had told her, and told her, and told her that she was wasting her time with trying to reason with the humans. But she would never listen, she was so set in her ways that somehow they would listen, that somehow, they would understand and unite. He never agreed with her delusions of peace between humans and mutants.Her fictional ideals are what got her shot in the first place. She abandoned him a long time ago. Left him without a word of goodbye. She had stated her position about the two of them. Quite frankly he felt as though he had misjudged her on thinking that he could trust her to stand by him. She was only like the others. They only end up abandoning him in the end; none of them ever actually cared. They only pretended to.

Hesitantly, he opened the journal, flicking through the various entries. Seeing her writing again, almost made him feel as though she was stillthere by his side, almost like she was talking to him.

 

_Dear future self,_

_After all this time you still have no idea how to start a journal entry. They don't exactly teach that subject in school, and it's not exactly a subject that you would want to ask your teachers (or friends for that matter!) about. Maybe I'll eventually grow wiser and learn the ways of journal entries . . . add that to the bucket list._

_Charles, Erik and I carried on with our adventure of finding more mutants! I don't think they are as enthusiastic about it to the level that I am. I just get so excited thinking that we're almost saving people from bad places by showing them that they're not alone and that there are people like us and safe places to stay. I don't know; that's just how I view it. Besides, it's always nice going outside (huh, never thought I would say that . . .) and feeling somewhat safe._

_Erik took me out for a drink last night, and paid! No one really does that for me. He's absolutely hilarious, even though he acts so serious all the time! Sometimes, I catch him off guard, smiling like an idiot and laughing. It honestly warms me up to see that light in his eyes when he laughs, and the way the edges of his eyes crinkle up with smile lines, he honestly should smile more, it suits him. Part of me has this goal to make him smile at least once a day; I don't know why I'm so set on it; I feel as though it's because of his past. I don't know what happened, but I've seen the numbers. My stomach turns every time I see it; it makes me sick._

_~~Part of me wants to ask him about his past.~~ _

_He's a great man, and I hope he sees the light in humanity, I know it seems dark for him right now but I hope that he sees that not everything is bad._

_He's offered to let me borrow one of his books tomorrow; we're doing a book exchange. He's going to read one of my favourites in exchange for one of his. It may seem dumb (which it probably is in all honesty - thank god no one will read this) but I find it cute. Almost like a bonding experience?  I don't know._

_Until next time_

_(your initials)_

_P.S. Need to also learn how to end journal entries_

He smiled at her scribbles, and flicked through the pages. He stopped on an entry that had a photo resting between the pages, the back of the photograph facing him, a neat scrawlwritten on the back reading: _Erik & (your name) ~ taken by yours truly, Charles Xavier_

He flipped the photo over and his heart stopped when he saw what it was. It was a photo of you and him, but you both weren't looking at the camera, you both didn't know Charles was taking a photo at the time. The both of you were sitting under a tree; Erik's head was leaning back on the tree, he was laughing, while you were also laughing to the side. Although the photo was from a distance, the detail in both your faces were visible.

_Dear future self,_

_The one and only Charles took the photo in this entry. Honestly, this has to be one of my favourite photos,_ _ironic because I don't remember what we were talking about, I think he was telling me a story about what Charles had done in the past. It must've been good to make him smile like that. I'll have to thank Charles for this later, might buy him a bottle of wine or something, not sure._

_Still warms my heart to have a moment captured of him like this, it gives me hope that he will see that not everything is bad. I still hold hope_

_(your initials)_

 

_Dear future self,_

_Erik disagrees with my thoughts on the humans. Charles told me that it'll be okay and that he just needs time to understand, he said that we couldn’t force him to see things our way. But Erik is so persistent with his views. He wants the humans to suffer, but that's not how it should be . . . I don't know what to do about it. I can't just sit back and ignore it, that'll only just make things worse. I'll just keep trying._

_(your initials)_

 

_Dear future self,_

_I can't stand with the ideas Erik holds, I can't. I will never agree with anything he says about what he thinks the role of humans and mutants are. But; I am willing to stand by him. He needs someone by his side right now; I can’t let him be alone. He won't be able to take it on his own, he needs someone by his side. At least that's what I thought at the start of all this. I don't think I can actually stand being by his side and supporting him while he projects his . . . views. I know I won't even be able to face him tomorrow when I leave, I know he's going to hate me for this. I just wish there was a better way to say that I'm sorry. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell him face to face. He's told me how he thinks genocide on the humans, his idea on how they should be treated ~~I honestly believe that if he thinks that he is no better than the monsters who frightened him throughout his childhood and branded him with those numbers~~ _ _I can't stay around that._

_I'm sorry Erik_

_(your initials)_

 

_Dear future self,_

Erik even now _still practically begs me to stop my protests. He acts as though it's because he doesn't agree with my views but I can see past it. He knows if I show my face at a protest or take another stand that there is a high chance that I will not be coming back alive. I know there is still good in him, he shows that to me every time he speaks to me and tries to make me stop. No matter how much he may deny it. I know it's true, the next protest I start, I will get hurt, but that's okay, I'm accepting of that. If it means that it brings us to one step closer to change then I'm ready to do it. It's funny; I never thought that I would be more than willing to die just to prove a point . . . funny how things change. But I will not sit in silence while fellow brothers and sisters fall._

_Erik isn't the only one who is worried about my life, Charles is on my case too, and so is everyone else to be perfectly honest. I know they care, and I'm grateful for their love and compassion. I love them all so much. They're the only family I have now._

But I'm doing my protest tomorrow. And that is that. Part of me knows that I won’t be coming back. Am I scared? Yes, I'm terrified; I have never been so scared in my whole life. But it's either going to end in two ways: I survive and continue doing what I do and seeing what else I can do to help or  _I don't survive, I make a huge statement and maybe give others the courage to stand up as well (?). Either way, there will hopefully be a positive outcome for the future._

 _I wish there was a better way to say that I am not ~~~~_ _sorry for this. I don't want to hear anything from Charles and Erik saying that by doing this that I am giving up everything I wanted and worked for. This world we live in is not going to change by me sitting at the mansion doing nothing and waiting for the change to happen._

_I honestly hope that Erik won't take this out on Charles and blame Charles for what may or may not happen to me. I hope he knows that I am doing this out of my own free will._

_I want to create a world where mutants and humans alike can live in peace and harmony. I want a world where Erik can smile and laugh like he used to, just like in that photo. That is my absolute goal._

_Even after all the troubles Erik and I have been through, I still love him, and that will never change; even if he hates me._

_Goodbye Erik, I love you_

_(your initials)_

 

He looked down at your last entry, his aged hands caressing the page. He wiped his eyes from their fresh tears. Taking the photo out of the journal before closing it and putting it back in the box. He looked back down at your laughing face, letting the tears fall down his cheek as he relived the memory in his mind. As he mumbled softly to the photo as he gently held it.

"I'm so sorry." 


End file.
